


The Meet Cute (Sort Of)

by 0000000 (iKain2)



Series: Doomhardt: The Crackship Absolutely Nobody Asked For [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also written at 2 in the morning but this time without Internet, Blizzard please, Crack, Doomfist #1 better be an old Overwatch agent or so help me, Grandpas when they were like 40ish, Inaccuracies everywhere probably sorry, Love At First Punch?, M/M, Pre-Canon, Timeline messed up oh well, completely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7481856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iKain2/pseuds/0000000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adhabu Ngumi had his doubts about this strange new military program called ‘Overwatch,’ especially when almost every single other candidate in the room looked incredibly tiny, squishy, and at least a decade younger than he was.</p>
<p>Then, a handsome German man with absolutely amazing hair walked into the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meet Cute (Sort Of)

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t even going to bother posting this piece of shit, but eh why the hell not.

While standing at parade rest in a set of fitted combat armor at the end of the pitifully short row of five (counting himself) still-qualifying candidates, Adhabu Ngumi briefly wondered why he had allowed himself to be persuaded into taking the offer in the first place. The South African National Defense Force was already sorely lacking in manpower and resources as per the most recent UN sanctions, but to send him – a decorated _Captain_ – to represent his country in this ridiculous endeavor… he already had more than enough work to do while acting as a Captain, and to just set aside those duties to pursue some harebrained scheme because a nosy government official _demanded_ it to happen simply added more fuel to his already short temper.

The doors to the training room slid open with a hiss of hydraulics to admit four geared-up men and women, and a cyborg that Adhabu honestly could not tell the gender of. The one that seemed like the leader of the group – a typical American man that looked like he was a carbon-copy of one of those old Captain America comics – addressed their group of candidates while the others stood off to the side.

“Good to see that everyone arrived on time for today’s session. As you all are aware, there are still a few more trials that you will have to complete before we can compile an accurate report on your abilities. Our focus for this afternoon will be on active combat, or more specifically a brief skirmish against an Overwatch agent.”

The other American man – Latino and wearing a black knit cap on his head – glared and muttered something in rapid Spanish directed towards the blond man. The white-haired (but remarkably young-faced) woman jabbed an elbow into his side and he immediately quieted down, although he still was glaring sullen daggers.

The blond man continued, his smile picture-perfect save for the minute twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Dr. Ziegler will be overseeing today’s trial, compiling the results, and providing any medical attention you may need afterwards. Candidate 11, please come forward to the table and equip your weapon. Your opponent will be Slipstream Tracer.”

The scrawny Chinese woman to Adhabu’s right straightened her back, stepped up with a salute, and then picked up a haphazard-looking shotgun-axe combination.

Adhabu silently wished the woman some good luck, as it looked like she would need it.

* * *

Candidate 11 barely made it by the skin of her teeth, but Adhabu didn’t need to actually ask the woman to know that from now on, both her dreams _and_ nightmares would be haunted by devilish giggling and flashing lights.

Candidate 64, a husky Russian man with a minigun, had the misfortune to be paired against the Captain American lookalike and his pulse rifle. He did not even last past ten seconds once several helix rockets had jammed the large barrels of his weapon.

Candidate 23 had dual-wielded pistols that shot out concentrated beams of hard light. She had been on the verge of winning the match when her defense had faltered for a split second and a well-timed blast to the face from two shotguns sent her down for the count. The Latino-American sauntered right out of the training room with an egotistical smirk once the candidate had been loaded up on a stretcher and brought to Dr. Ziegler to deal with.

Candidate 59 took one look at the cyborg that had bowed politely, unsheathed his sword, and waved cheerfully with shurikens poking out from between his reinforced knuckles, before abruptly calling in his immediate withdrawal from the program.

Only Adhabu – or, rather, Candidate 87 – was left, now.

“Candidate 87, please step forward to the table and equip your weapon. Your opponent will be here shor—”

The back door to the training room hissed open to admit a man in an almost-full suit of armor that looked like it came right out of a fantasy television show were it not for the camouflage paint and insignia that Adhabu immediately recognized as belonging to the _Deutsches Heer_.

A likely veteran of warfare before the omnic uprising, not unlike himself. How interesting.

“I apologize for my lateness, friends! I did not expect the delay while traveling back on the _Unterführung_! Your American transports are so unpredictable, unlike the ones in Germany.“

As he strapped on his gauntlet, Adhabu could _not_ take his eyes off the exceedingly handsome German man with a head of absolutely amazing hair and the oversized hammer he carried easily in one hand.

The blond American waved the German man over to the sparring area with a sigh. “Don’t worry, you made it just on time. Candidate 87, Reinhardt Wilhelm will be your opponent.”

With a slight smirk pulling at his lips, Adhabu took his position opposite of the only other person he’d seen so far in Overwatch that was even remotely close to matching his own height and weight. His gauntlet beeped and the spiked knuckles glowed red, signaling combat readiness.

“We shall prove ourselves in glorious combat, friend! Do not hold back!” The excited grin on Reinhardt’s scarred face gave an edge of softness to the otherwise intimidating equipment set.

“It would be dishonorable for me to do so. Prepare yourself!” Adhabu raised his fists and assumed his battle-ready stance.

The alarm sounded and within a heartbeat Adhabu rushed forward, intending to draw first blood. With his gauntleted fist cocked back, snarled as he swung widely at the other man’s unprotected head.

The oversized hammer easily batted away his attack and Adhabu had to pivot to avoid slamming his face into the flaming engine attached to the back of the hammer.

An oversized hammer was believable, but he hadn’t expected _that_ to be on the back!

Adhabu’s other fist followed up with the momentum he’d built and slammed into a sturdy jaw that didn’t so much as budge from the force he’d put behind the blow. Stunned by the revelation of how strong his opponent was, Adhabu was barely able to deflect the next swing of the rocket-boosted hammer and retreated to a safe distance to reassess the combat situation.

Adhabu tested the other man’s rather short but deadly range, weaving in-between the swings and jumping back out after a quick powered slam of his gauntlet onto any part that was safe for him to reach without being clipped too badly by the huge weapon. Everything else except for the arcs of the hammer and the roar of spontaneous waves of fire disappeared as his tunnel-vision focused entirely onto the giant target in front of him.

In the span of ten minutes, Adhabu landed exactly _one_ powered punch to the other man’s face that got a reaction other than a boisterous laugh. Reinhardt sent him sliding back a few meters with a fire strike aimed at his feet.

“GOOD HIT! AGAIN! AGAIN!”

Another fiery wave of death nearly scorched off Adhabu’s scalp as he ducked and rolled back up into a crouch a farther distance away. By the time he recovered, however, he realized a second too late that he’d put himself too close to a wall.

A delighted shout in guttural German was the only warning Adhabu received before the heavily armored tank of a man roared towards him in a shoulder charge that immediately iced over all of the blood in his veins. With only a second to react, he raised his gauntlet up and activated a skill that he actively avoided using except for the direst of situations.

Like right now.

* * *

Angela raised an eyebrow at the starry-eyed look on Genji’s faceplate as the young cyborg-man tracked the match with an intense scrutiny that rarely made an appearance on the otherwise sullen and moody man.

“This… this is like _**Toransufōmā**_! My childhood anime has come to life!”

“A tora-wot?” Lena shoved Genji over with her elbow in an attempt to get a better look at the relatively evenly-matched spar.

“Toransufōmā! The one with giant machines that can turn into cars!”

“Ooh, _Transformers_! Yeah yeah, it **is** lookin’ like that! Wait, who’d be Opty Prime then?!”

Sharing a resigned look with Morrison, who was standing right next to her with his arms crossed over his chest, Angela refrained from sighing out loud and turned her concentration back onto the data scrolling across the screen of her holotablet.

“Oi—!”

“Th—“

A deafening explosion of noise and a shockwave of pure red energy sent all four of them falling flat of their backsides. With a helping hand from Morrison, Angela got back onto her feet and readied her prototype caduceus staff with her lips pressed into a grim line as she quickly made her way over to the sparring area.

The match was finally over; the Candidate had lasted a record 14 minutes and 43 seconds against a fully-armored Reinhardt.

Candidate 87 looked mostly fine on his part despite lying face-down on the floor and unconscious. A cursory check revealed that his entire right arm had shattered from the force behind… whatever skill he had activated. Once the man had been set to rights on a stretcher, Angela set her healing beam onto the unconscious man.

Reinhardt, on the other hand, had been sent flying clear across the training room and looked to be firmly stuck _in the wall_ right below the high ceiling thanks to his armor. When Angela finally made her way over to the German after ensuring that the candidate wasn’t going to roll over and suffocate in his unconscious state while being transported to the infirmary, Reinhardt’s broken nose had turned a painful-looking shade of purple and bloody snot had just about leaked all over the lower half of his face.

“THAT WAS AMAZING! HA-HAH!”

The twinkle of utter admiration in the man’s only working eye and his blindingly bright grin, however, had Angela shaking her head and chuckling as she set her healing beam onto him. “It seems we have finally found someone that can match you in close-quarters combat, Reinhardt.”

“I like this man! We should keep him!”

“I would be surprised if he doesn’t pass the rest of the tests. Candidates 87 and 11 have done quite admirably so far.”

“ _Wunderbar_! Now, how do I get down from here?”

 


End file.
